


All of Our Own

by FrozenMemories



Series: The 100 Post Canon Happy Fics [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Epilogue, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, PWP, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories
Summary: Miller and Jackson finally have their own place to live. Time to celebrate.
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Series: The 100 Post Canon Happy Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954072
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	All of Our Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormkpr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/gifts).



"Look at this," Nate says, arms sneaking around Jackson from behind, "we finally have a home all of our own."

It isn't much, more of a shed than the cabin they've envisioned. It's crooked here and there but it's _theirs_ , built with their own hands and geared to their own needs.

"And all it cost was ounces of blood and sweat," Jackson jokes dryly, though literally, he's right. Nate has a fresh pink scar running across the back of his hand from where he injured himself sawing wood planks. But what's another scar when he has _this_ to show for it - four solid walls, a roof above their heads and a door they can close behind them.

He pushes up on the balls of his feet and smacks a kiss below the nape of Jackson's neck.

"I think this calls for a housewarming party, don't you?" He tightens his embrace while he suggestively murmurs into Jackson’s ear, "Just you, me and our bed..." 

Jackson's body quakes with soft chuckles and he covers Nate's hands with his own.

"Sounds like a plan," he agrees enthusiastically.

When Nate said bed he was referring to a sad excuse for a mattress they've managed to retrieve from the bunker - it's little more than a thin layer of protection between them and the ground but it serves its purpose and it's far more spacious than the bunk they shared during their time underground.

He shudders at the memories, a movement that doesn't go by Jackson unnoticed.

"You okay?" he inquires, turning around in Nate's arms. Both his hands cup Nate's face and he eyes him with concern.

"Fine," he insists and smiles at Jackson’s inherent caretaker instincts, "More than fine."

He draws closer and presses their lips together to underline his point. 

Jackson pulls back, unconvinced. 

“You sure?”

He knows better than to try and conceal his feelings from his partner.

“Just unpleasant memories, they come and go. Nothing to dwell on right now.”

Judging by the shift in his expression, that’s enough for Jackson’s worries to dissipate – at least temporarily.

"So, I was promised a party?" he grins teasingly.

"And that's what you'll get," Nate confirms with a wink. He shoves at Jackson's shoulders, effectively pushing him a few steps back, and follows right behind. Their eyes lock and he licks his lips subconsciously at the sight of Jackson’s drooping eyelids. The man truly has perfected the _bedroom look._

With eager hands he starts tugging at the hem of Jackson’s shirt, then quickly shoves it up until he lifts his arms and lets Nate undress him. Nate’s shirt soon lands atop Jackson’s by their feet.

He brings their lips together for another kiss and steadily crowds Jackson against the wall.

There's groping and pulling, hands roaming aimlessly across each other's skin, their movements almost frantic, as if they just can’t get enough of one another.

“Sit down,” he tells Jackson, once he manages to break their kiss long enough to draw a breath. Tugging at his hand he pulls him away from the wall, steadying him as he sinks down to sit on the mattress. Nate drops to his knees between Jackson’s parted legs, stealing another kiss before he bends down to untie the laces of his shoes.

Jackson’s hands grab at his neck, drawing him up until their lips meet again and Nate can barely disentangle himself long enough to get rid of his own boots.

Jackson leans back on the bed with a lascivious smirk, wordlessly inviting Nate to climb on top of him, straddling his hips. 

His hands come up to cup Jackson’s cheeks, gently stroking over the dark scruff. Arousal is burning hot between their bodies as he grinds down on Jackson with a teasing roll of his hips. ~~~~

When Jackson – ever the impatient lover – makes a grab for his fly, Nate catches his hands and brings them together against the bed sheet, right above Jackson's head.

"Not so fast," he chides playfully.

They're so used to quick numbers; one ear always straining for unwanted company, constantly on alert with the prospect of interruptions.

They're so used to keeping most of their clothes on, never knowing who might barge in on them in the middle of the night, announcing an emergency.

Pulling back Nate allows himself a moment to just take in Jackson's face. The marks. The scars. The specks of color in his dark eyes.

"Nate?"

"I love you," he blurts out softly. Jackson smiles and squeezes his hands.

"I love you, too," he replies with genuine affection and Nate can’t help but kiss him deeply.

“I know,” he states, “but I mean,” he pauses, wishing for a stronger word than _love,_ a way to express this feeling that’s about to overwhelm him, “I _love_ you,” he repeats with new emphasis, making Jackson’s smile grow even brighter.

“I know. And I _love_ you, too, you big old sap.”

He silences Jackson’s laughter with another open-mouthed kiss that soon leaves the both of them panting for air. He’s always loved the way Jackson’s kisses involve his entire body. Even with his hands out of the way he arches up to press their chests together and Nate can feel the rise and fall of Jackson’s stomach with each in- and exhale.

Pulling back he lets go of Jackson’s hands and sets out to explore every inch of his upper body, the way he rarely gets to do. He follows the path of his hands with his lips, kissing, licking and nipping at his smooth skin.

They have the luxury of time now. Uninterupted. Alone. 

Jackson’s hands are on his head, tugging him closer and Jackson mumbles quiet words of encouragement into the room.

He should have lit candles. Jackson would have. But it’s not like he had planned this ahead. And now that they’re in the middle of making out he doesn’t feel like stopping to set the right mood – they’re in the right mood alright.

Jackson squirms when Nate gently bites into his abs, sucking at the skin. There’s a ticklish spot, right above his hip bone, that Nate sets out to attack with a feral grin.

For years the playful aspect of their love making has suffered from the darkness of their living conditions, from grief and guilt and fear. Now Nate feels like he can finally breathe again, like life is slowing down – and so is he.

As he makes his way back up to Jackson’s face he traces every curve and contour of his chest. He feels a pair of warm hands roam across his back, strong arms coming to wrap around him and squeezing tight as their lips melt together.

He doesn’t ever want to stop kissing this man.

And he doesn’t for a very long time.

Jackson’s hands are on his hips, keeping him close while he grinds up against him and Nate feels him harden through the barrier of their clothes. He swallows a moan and leans back, momentarily severing their connection to smile down at Jackson affectionately.

He winks at him and slides down the length of his body to work open Jackson’s pants.

Jackson lets out a groan. He sounds frustrated – he’s never liked being teased – but Nate won’t let himself be rushed. He’s enjoying this immensely and takes his sweet time pushing the stiff fabric out of the way while making sure not to accidentally touch Jackson where he wants it most.

Another sound, a growl this time, as Nate crawls backwards until he can slide the pants off over Jackson’s feet. He gets up, discarding of his own remaining clothes, under Jackson’s heavy-lidded gaze.

Before his pants even hit the ground Jackson’s hands are on his ass, pulling him back down to the bed.

He laughs as he lands in Jackson’s lap, and rubs against him as they kiss, tongues connecting in a slow, familiar dance. Jackson’s arms snake around him and he wraps his own around Jackson’s shoulders, keeping him close.

The way Jackson moans into his mouth sends vibrations through his entire body. As good as it feels, he tears himself away after a while and gently shoves Jackson down on his back, glancing down between them with a grin before he pointedly catches his eyes and smirks.

Pushing back he ignores the hands that try to anchor him and sidles down Jackson’s full length until he can settle between his legs. He’s dropping kisses across strong abs and smooth skin.

Jackson groans and tugs at his head impatiently.

“C’mon, Nate,” he complains, “Don’t be a tease.”

He’s almost willing to make him wait longer for that comment but where’s the point in that? He’s getting as much out of it as Jackson does so why torture both of them?

Without another word he lets his tongue sweep over Jackson in long, wet strokes. He can feel the pulse of his excitement with every lick. Soft moans fill the room as he works him up steadily, hands roaming up and down Jackson’s flexed thighs.

With each swipe of his tongue he lets his fingers creep a little higher up Jackson's legs, raking over his ass every now and then.

Jackson’s breathing grows deeper and then hitches when he probingly slips one finger between his cheeks. Jackson bends his knees a little further, wordlessly signaling they’re on the same page. He loves how easily they can read each other, how they never really had to talk or negotiate much when it came to intimacy. He can always tell by the way Jackson squirms and turns what he’s in the mood for.

But today Nate wants more.

He lets Jackson slip from his mouth and tilts his head up.

“Look at me, baby,” he gently demands and waits for Jackson to shuffle and brace himself on his elbow. “Tell me what you want,” he urges, “I want to hear you say it.”

Jackson’s cheeks glow endearingly but he holds Nate’s gaze.

“I want you,” he states in a soft tone, then pauses. “I want you inside of me… Make… make love to me.”

That’s as explicit as Jackson will ever get but Nate doesn’t mind. His brain is fuelled on images of everything he wants to do to his partner before the sun comes up in the morning.

Bending down he goes back to his previous ministrations. It doesn’t take long to get Jackson to where he wants him, thighs quivering beneath Nate’s hands. He can tell how close Jackson is even though he’s fairly quiet. And he knows exactly how to lick, tug and suck.

“Nate. Baby,” Jackson whispers breathlessly, “Not yet.”

But Nate has a plan. Spit and come aren’t the perfect substitute for lube but it’s the best they’ve got and they know how to make it work. And so he keeps his pace relentlessly and when his name falls from Jackson’s lips again he makes sure not to let any of it go to waste.

He tells Jackson to roll over and hugs him close, applying a trail of kisses down the curve of his spine. Making sure to give Jackson enough time to recover he lets his come-covered fingers stroke and tease at him ever so slowly and is rewarded with the soft noise of satisfied hums.

Despite Jackson insisting he’s ready Nate is in no rush. Yes, he’s painfully hard and desperately turned on, but at the same time he’s enjoying every second of drawing this out. More so, since he knows how impatient Jackson gets and how crazy it drives him.

“I love this side of you,” he murmurs into Jackson’s ear, once he’s kissed his way up his back again.

“My backside?” Jackson quips, though his voice has become unsteady with the harsh breathing of his arousal.

Nate chuckles and bites into the skin at his neck.

“Your insatiability,” he clarifies with a grin, “But I love your backside, too.”

For emphasis he squeezes Jackson’s ass and then smacks it. They quibble back and forth until Jackson manages to sneak his hand between their bodies and take hold of Nate, reminding him what he was about to do.

Jackson’s touch is warm and sure and Nate can’t help but push into it a few times. He moans deep in his throat and presses his face into Jackson’s neck.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he whispers against hot skin.

“I’m all yours,” Jackson replies and the declaration fills Nate with an overwhelming sense of glee. As he inches forward Jackson’s hand guides him and he has to close his eyes at the sensation of sliding into him with pleasant ease.

When Jackson pulls his hand away Nate catches it mid-air and places it on the pillow, threading their fingers together.

“I love you, baby. You feel so good,” he gushes over the sound of Jackson’s muffled moans.

It only takes a few shallow thrusts to find a comfortable rhythm. They work in perfect sync like that – as if they were meant to be. Nate still can’t believe his luck sometimes, but he refrains from voicing the thought. Jackson already thinks he’s mushy – not that he ever sounds like he minds but he teases him nonetheless.

“I love you,” is what he settles for instead.

He feels the tension building inside them both. Jackson’s tell-tale groans are growing shorter and more abrupt with every thrust while Nate feels his own skin buzzing with increasing arousal.

It’s not release he craves though, it’s the indescribable sense of _almost_ that has him alter his pace every time he teeters too close to the edge. He wants to preserve the feeling, the moment, for both of them. But eventually his body betrays him. The subtle clench of Jackson’s muscles, combined with the soft noise of his pleasure, drive him to the point of losing his composure.

He wraps the arm he’s used to brace himself around Jackson’s chest and holds him close while the movements of his hips become short and fast.

Jackson mumbles and moans quiet encouragements into the crook of his arm, spurring Nate on and on until they peak almost simultaneously.

Nate rides out the waves of his high, lazily grinding his hips down onto Jackson, who shivers with gentle aftershocks.

No words are spoken while they catch their breaths and rearrange themselves. Jackson flops onto his back, allowing Nate to cross his arms over his sweat-covered chest and rest his chin on them.

Jackson is beautiful, eyes closed, wearing nothing but a satisfied smile, he muses.

“Stop staring at me and pull the covers up,” Jackson pulls him out of his reverie with an exaggerated shiver. Nate pecks him on the cheek and does as he’s told. He expertly rolls over and shuffles his shoulder into Jackson’s chest, while grabbing for his arm to slide it around himself under the blanket. The position is so familiar they move on autopilot.

Jackson spoons him tightly and kisses his neck.

“G’night, baby,” he mumbles, tiredness already seeping into his voice.

“Night, Jacks,” Nate replies and listens as his breathing evens out.

In the quiet he lets his eyes roam around the moonlit room. It may be somewhat spartan and far from finished, but this is his home now, _their_ home. And with Jackson by his side he has everything he'll ever need in life.


End file.
